


Pleat

by humanveil



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Clothed Sex, Crossdressing, Desk Sex, M/M, PWP, Post-Canon, Teacher/Student Roleplay, Uniform Kink, erotic asphyxiation, skirt fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-24 07:30:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9711137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/humanveil/pseuds/humanveil
Summary: He hadn’t expected a reaction, but when he says ‘I kept the uniform, you know,’ and Severus’ eyes glint mischievously, Draco knows he’s in for something good.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I'm trying to finish off all my semi-done fics before I start anything longer, so here we are. This is almost entirely self indulgent.
> 
> Just in case it's not clear: Draco wears traditionally feminine clothes in this. If that's not your thing then I suggest not reading it.

They’re cleaning out Draco’s closet, tossing all the unneeded items away so there was space enough to walk again. The younger man, as Severus has grown to learn, is a bit of a hoarder.

He pulls down another set of dress robes that obviously no longer fit, throwing them to the growing pile of fabric on the floor. Draco bitches behind him, something about how they could still be needed one day, and Severus ignores him completely.

“Is that your school trunk?” he asks, cutting him off when he catches sight of the worn wood.

Draco peeks over his shoulder, humming in confirmation when he sees it. “Yes.”

“You kept it?”

“Yes,” Draco says again. “Didn’t you keep yours?”

“I didn’t keep anything,” Severus explains. “There’s no point.”

Draco shrugs, looking back to him. “I kept the uniform too, you know,” he adds, like an afterthought.

He expects to be asked why, or to be told to find it so they could throw it out, but instead Severus stills. It’s only for a split second, but Draco catches it; catches the way the older man swallows, the way his eyes glint mischievously.

Draco smirks, leaning into him. “That’s not something you’d be interested in, is it?” he asks, already picturing it. It _had_ been his schoolboy fantasy, after all.

Instead of an answer, Severus turns away from him. “Get back to work,” he says, but Draco can hear the slight roughness to his voice.

*

Draco searches for his uniform the next day, finding it with some difficulty. It needs to be washed, the fabric dusty from years of being packed away, so he gives it to one of the elves and waits.

He’d grown since his days at school, and it’s obvious when he tries the uniform on. The shirt is tight around his shoulders, white fabric pulled taught over where’s his torso had finally filled out, but it’s wearable. The pants, however, are something of a lost cause. Too short, too tight, too uncomfortable.

He sighs, trying to think of an alternative.

And then, slowly, an imp grin spreads across his face. “Tippy,” he calls, turning to the elf when she appears at his side. “Do I still have that skirt?”

*

Draco stares at himself in the mirror, pleased with his reflection.

As it turned out, he did still have the skirt. It was simple – black, pleated, high waisted – and only slightly different to the one the girls had worn at Hogwarts. It fits him well, the waistline accentuating the feminine curve of his body.

He’d paired it with simple black stockings, held up by suspenders that led to lacy underwear. As a final touch, he’d tucked his shirt in and added the familiar Slytherin tie.

Giving himself one last appreciative look, he turns; making his way to Severus’ study.

*

He can’t help but feel nervous as he stands outside the room, hand raised to knock on the door. He hadn’t asked, after all. He could have guessed wrong.

He knocks three times and waits for a response, smoothing down the front of his skirt. Severus calls out permission for him to enter almost instantly, and Draco does, pushing the door open and slipping inside.

Every doubt vanishes when Severus turns to look at him. Draco watches, grinning to himself, as emotions flicker across the older man’s face; shock, confusion, understanding, _arousal._

“Draco…” he says, voice already rough.

Draco lets the door shut behind him, walking forward carefully. He can feel the skirt ruffle with every step, can see the way Severus’ eyes follow his every move.

“Like it?” he asks cheekily, pushing Severus’ chair back with his foot so he can sit on the desk’s edge.

“Draco,” Severus says again, staring openly. His hands twitch as if to touch, but he doesn’t move.

Draco does it for him. He grabs his hands, pulling him closer and placing them palm down on either of his thighs. “We never got to do this at school,” he murmurs, pleased when Severus moves his hands across the smooth stockings. “Which was a shame. There’s little point in an illicit affair with your professor if you don’t fuck on a desk and in your uniform at least once.”

Severus laughs, the sound barely a puff of air. “Making up for lost opportunities?”

“Only if you want to,” Draco answers, pausing for a moment. “Professor.”

Severus groans softly, standing from his seat. He’s dressed in one of his usual robes, and Draco remembers every schoolboy fantasy; every wet dream.

Severus moves the work he’d been doing out of the way, and pushes Draco down against the wood of the desk. Draco goes, shifting so he’s as comfortable as he can be, and spreading his legs wide enough for Severus to stand between them.

For a moment, all Severus does is stare. He takes in every detail, like he’s burning the image in his memory. Draco’s insides swirl with anticipation, cock already half hard.

Severus’ hands travel over his stockings and up to his thighs, short fingernails scratching the skin softly. He pushes the skirt up, raising his brow at Draco when he spots the delicate underwear. “You’re going to be the death of me,” he murmurs, slipping his hands behind Draco and squeezing his ass.

“I only wanted to look good for you,” Draco tells him, wrapping his arms around his shoulders when Severus leans down to kiss him.

“Yes,” Severus says, nipping at jaw, just under his ear. “Terribly naughty of you, to tempt a professor in the middle of the day.”

Draco’s hands clench in the fabric of Severus’ robe at the words, arousal shooting through his entire body. He had hoped it would lead to this. He hadn’t been a student in years, nor had Severus been a professor, but the fantasy is still there. The _want._

Trying not to giggle, he falls into the act easily; pitches his voice higher, softer. “Temptation stems from desire, sir,” he says. “Technically, you’re the one at fault here.”

“Perhaps,” Severus responds, pulling back to look at Draco’s face. His hands travel over the lace, the pads of his fingers tracing the length of Draco’s cock. “However, I’m in control of my desire. I could just leave you here, desperate.”

Draco whimpers, partly because of the words and partly because of the movement of Severus’ hands. “No fun in that,” he says, bucking into the pressure.

“Not for you, no. But I do love to watch you beg.”

Draco sighs quietly, rocking against him. “Please,” he says, dragging the word out. “ _Please,_ professor.”

“You’ll have to do better than that.”

Draco groans, low and quiet. “I’ve been good, haven’t I?” he starts. “Please, professor. I’ve done everything you ask. I deserve something, don’t I, sir?”

Just like that, Severus stands again. He hikes the skirt up further, palms rubbing over Draco’s inner thighs before moving to pull the pants out of the way. They slip own his legs and onto the floor, Draco’s hard cock springing free and creating an obvious dent in the skirt’s fabric.

Draco spreads his legs further, and Severus slips a finger in between, stopping short when he’s met with Draco’s entrance, already slicked and ready. “Prepared,” he says, tutting. “My, my, Mr. Malfoy. You have been busy.”

“I didn’t want to waste time,” Draco tells him, acting wide eyed and innocent. “You always hate when students do that.”

He can see Severus’ lips twitch, but the older man doesn’t say anything. Instead, he brings his hand back to Draco’s mouth. “Lick,” he says, and Draco opens his mouth to do just that.

His tongue slides over the skin, eyes fluttering shut. He sucks Severus’ fingers into his mouth, because he knows it drives the other man crazy, and grins around the digits when Severus groans again.

He can hear Severus opening his fly with his other hand, can hear the rustle of fabric as he pushes his robe out the way. Strings of saliva drip down his chin when Severus takes his hand away, and Draco wipes at them quickly. He’s fidgeting, excited to finally be fucked.

Severus slicks himself with Draco’s spit before pressing into him slowly. Draco lets out a low moan at the stretch, the burn beautiful. His legs wrap around Severus’ waist, pulling him ever closer.

Severus moves gently at first, slipping in and out of him, drawing moans from the younger man. He has one hand holding onto Draco’s hip, fingers clenched around the skirt, and another near the boy’s throat, holding onto the tie.

“Faster,” Draco urges. “Professor, please.”

“Brat,” Severus comments, but obliges.

He increases his speed only slightly, angling his thrusts until he finds Draco’s prostate. Only when he has the boy moaning with every thrust – the noises reverberating around the room – does he fuck him quickly, harshly.

Draco’s body bounces with it. His hands are holding onto the edge of the desk, knuckles turned white with their tight hold. “Professor,” he groans, arching into it. “ _Fuck.”_

“Language,” Severus reprimands, voice low, his hand pulling on the tie. It tightens the knot, puts pressure on Draco’s throat. “You’re in enough trouble.”

Draco moans again, clenching around him. “Harder,” he pleads, adding a quick, _please, sir,_ when Severus raises a brow at the demand. He gets what he wants; Severus pulling on the tie harsher, restricting his airflow just that bit more.

He keeps it up, long fingers eventually moving to wrap around Draco’s pale throat. He fluctuates between pressing down and holding it gently, all the while fucking him harshly. There will be bruises later, he knows. Somehow, that only adds to the appeal.

“Severus — _fuck_ — professor, _please_ ,” Draco gasps out. “Touch me, please, _please_ —I want—”

Severus moves his hand from Draco’s hip to his erection, deft fingers stroking his cock. He leans to kiss Draco again, lips trailing over the irritated skin of his throat and up his neck, jaw, mouth. “Remarkable boy,” he says, rocking into him, this thumb tracing the slit of his cock. “You always were my favourite student.”

The words are whispered directly into his ear, Severus’ breath warm against his skin. Draco lets out a guttural moan, coming instantly. He spills over Severus’ hand, the skirt; his hole clenching around the other man’s cock. Severus fucks him through it and follows not long after, spilling into him.

Severus falls forward again, almost lying atop Draco’s erratically rising chest as he catches his own breath. He kisses the younger man again, slower, this time, and gently pulls out. Draco squirms at the empty feeling, finger twisting in Severus’ robe.

“We are _so_ doing that again,” he declares, breathless. "With the skirt."

Severus pushes his face in the crook of Draco’s neck, and Draco can feel him smile; can hear the soft chuckle. “Another fantasy you want to act out?”

Draco grins cheekily, eyes gleaming with mischief. “Well,” he says. “I always did want to suck you off under your desk.”


End file.
